


duty before all, casualty of war

by 100demons



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 01:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/pseuds/100demons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizune comes back to Konoha after twelve long years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	duty before all, casualty of war

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crowind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowind/gifts).



The most vivid memory Shizune has of her mother is the feel of the smooth kanji of her name engraved onto the Memorial Stone. Uncle Dan’s face is blurred by the passage of time but she remembers the touch of his skin, her hand clasped around his calloused thumb, the smell of incense burning as they bowed in front of her mother’s name.

Twenty five years later, Shizune presses her right hand against the stone and in the space between the tip of her index finger and her wrist, she holds the names of everyone in her family. She is the only living Kato left in Konoha.

* * *

Shizune is five years old when she attends the Academy under the patronage of the Senju Clan, old money and power buying her books and weapons and a seat in the front of the classroom. The war is dying down and every day, more and more shinobi come home with the dog tags of their friends clenched in their hands. She is six years old when Princess Tsunade comes to visit her at the Academy, flak vest splattered with blood and Uncle Dan’s tags hanging from her wrist.

They’re crusted over with blood and bits of the chain links have rusted over from exposure to water. Shizune takes it with cupped hands and bows so low that she can feel her hair brush the ground, exactly like how the etiquette teacher taught her.

“Don’t,” Princess Tsunade says in a rough, hoarse voice. “Don’t bow to me. I don’t deserve it.”

The teachers say Tsunade is the reason why they’ve won the war-- she’s the most powerful kunoichi in the world, the most talented medic-nin, a Legendary _Sannin_ , summoner of slugs and master of poisons. She fought Hanzo of Rain and lived and with a single touch leveled hundreds of mountains. They say that Princess Tsunade can save anyone.

Uncle Dan’s tags feel oily in her hands. Shizune is the daughter of a kunoichi, the niece of a shinobi and an Academy student during war. She knows what the dog tags mean. Uncle Dan told her once that if a ninja’s tags ever came off it meant that he would go away to live in the big rock, all curled and sleeping in the characters of his name. Shizune swallows and puts the necklace around her own neck, the tags falling all the way down to her belly button.

“Can we go visit Uncle Dan now?” Shizune takes Tsunade’s scarred and bloody hand and holds tight.

“Child, you don’t understand, he’s--”

Shizune grips the Princess’s thumb tight and tries not to think about how different it is from Uncle Dan’s hand. “He’s sleeping at the big rock with Mama and Papa,” she says patiently and tugs at the lady’s arm. “Now we have to burn smelly sticks for him every Sunday.”

Tsunade closes her eyes for a very long time before she talks again. “Okay,” she says, clearing her throat. “Okay, let’s go visit Dan at the Memorial Stone.”

 

Shizune leads the way, the tags a heavy millstone around her neck. It is the start of a ritual that would last until their departure from Konoha a decade later.

 

* * *

 

As a Kato, a medic-nin and a kunoichi, Shizune is, above all things, practical. The second thing she does after returning to the village for the first time in twelve years (the first is to help heal a comatose Kakashi) is request the casualty lists from the past decade and a red marker. With a slow, methodical hand, she crosses out the names of all of the friends and family that have died in her absence. By the time she’s done, the paper is covered with ugly red marks and great big splotches of tears.

The third thing she does after returning is wipe her face, apply a jutsu that reduces the puffiness of her eyes and dig out Tsunade from the mountain of paperwork she has buried herself under.

That night she leaves Tonton in the office with a snoring Tsunade, takes off her kimono and finds the nearest bar in nothing but a mesh undershirt, her dark slacks and heels. It’s a ninja bar so when she accidentally spits out a senbon while choking on a shot that goes down too quickly, no one bats an eye. It hits the wall in front of her and sinks three inches deep into the wood panelling; the shinobi next to her whistles, long and low.

“Could have put someone’s eye out,” he says in an admiring sort of voice.

Shizune’s mouth twists and she thinks of Kabuto, whose appearance, she thinks, would be much improved with several needles in his traitorous eyes. “I wish,” she says, her voice hard and flinty.

The shinobi next to her smiles and the senbon in his mouth bobs up and down. It’s a mesmerizing sight. “How about I buy you another drink and get you to forget about the fucked up mission you just came off of.”

Shizune considers him from the corner of her eyes; lean and lanky, with scruffy brown hair, worn flak vest hanging off the back of his bar stool casually. Around her age, maybe older, which explains why he looks vaguely familiar. She’s never been good at guessing ages-- Hayate’s usually better than her-- no, _was_ better, Hayate was dead now, had been killed in Orochimaru’s damned invasion--

Shizune bites down hard on her bottom lip and tastes the coppery tang of blood. “I’d like that,” she says quietly and accepts the bright blue drink that the bartender slides her way.

When she shows up to work tomorrow morning, hungover and in yesterday’s clothes, Tsunade is the one to get her a glass of water, an aspirin and an hour in a dark room. When Shizune wakes up from her nap, Tonton snuffling curiously at her neck, she sees the marked list folded up on the table next to her with a box of sweet-smelling incense.

She takes the rest of the day off.

* * *

 

On her tenth birthday, Shizune is elbow deep in her teammate’s stomach, frantically trying to stitch sliced intestines back together. She only knows basic anatomy and the most simple medical ninjutsu; Jin-sensei had only begun to teach her about the process of converting normal chakra into medical chakra before they left for the mission. She tries to save him anyway.

In the end, sensei has to tear Shizune away from Kenji’s corpse, her hands glowing a pitiful pale green under a thick coat of drying blood. Kurenai is passed out on sensei’s back, hands clasped around his neck, bandages clumsily wrapped around her head.

“He’s gone,” sensei says and closes Kenji’s eyes with a gentle hand. A week later Shizune watches the Hokage carve a new name onto the Stone, underneath Uncle Dan’s and Mama’s, Kurenai silently crying by her side. After the service she makes her way to the hospital and knocks on Tsunade’s office door.

“Come in.”

It’s small and cramped and filled with more books than Shizune has seen in her entire life. They cover the floor, pack the shelves, pile up on the desk and litter the couch wedged underneath the tiny window in the far corner. The Princess is sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine in hand, dark eyes half-lidded and unreadable.

“What do you want?”

Shizune settles herself down on the floor, hands on her thighs and bows. “I--” The words catch in her throat, all knotted up tightly until she can’t even breathe. “I just--” She looks down at her hands, clenched tightly into tiny little fists. She can still see the blood caking the bed of her fingernails. “Does it ever get easier?” she finally asks. _Does the blood ever go away?_

Tsunade-sama takes a long swig out of the bottle, lips stained a dark purple. “No,” she says. “Never.”

Shizune takes in a deep breath and relaxes her hands, forcing her fingers to uncurl. “Okay,” she says and makes a decision. “Tsunade-sama, please take me on as your student.”

Tsunade’s voice is as sharp as a whip. “No.”

“When-- when you tried to save my Uncle--” Shizune flinches at the sudden spike of killing intent.

“Don’t mention him to me again,” Tsunade hisses and the wine bottle in her hand creaks disturbingly, cracks spiderwebbing in the pale green glass.

“Teach me,” Shizune soldiers on, because she is a Kato and a Kato _never_ gives up, “so I don’t have to watch my friends die.” She doesn’t need to say: _teach me because you_ owe _me_. Tsunade can hear it just the same.

“You’ll hate me for it,” Tsunade says and she looks old and all worn out and nothing like the most powerful kunoichi in the world.

“I don’t want to see another name on the Stone again,” Shizune says fiercely and Tsunade laughs bitterly, the edges of the sound sharp enough to cut.

“Pipe dreams,” Tsunade mutters in a low voice but she gets up from the couch, tossing the wine bottle out the window with a smooth motion. “It won’t be easy, not with the war coming,” she says, her voice warning.

Shizune closes her eyes and tries not to remember how it felt to hold Kenji’s life in her hands. “I know,” she says. “But I want to do it anyway.”

* * *

 

His name is Genma.

The flak vest is heavy and slightly too big-- it’s the only one they had in stock closest to her size. Shizune doesn’t know where her old vest went. She knows he recognizes her from the flick of his eyes, but she’s not sure whether it’s because he remembers the night at the bar or her from twelve years ago. Maybe it’s both. Shizune tugs her long sleeves down and gives Raidou (his face so changed by that nasty scar, she could have done a much better job than that) and Iwashi curt nods.

“Good to see you,” Raidou says, his voice deeper and stronger than she remembers. Everyone is bigger and taller and older than they are in her mind. “We all thought you must have died or something.” Twelve years is a long time.

Shizune gives him a tight smile. “Not quite,” she says, forcing a cheerful smile on her face. “So, are we ready to move out?”

Genma (so different from the short, dour little boy with the toothpick in his mouth, best friends with Hayate, she slept with _Genma_ \--) nods lazily at everyone, senbon bobbing with his motion. “Iwashi, guard the medic. Raidou and I’ll take point.”

The line between past and present grows increasingly blurred and over the faces of these old and hardened shinobi she can see the ghosts of their past selves, young and cheerful. She closes her eyes and tries not to think about anything but the mission.

It goes well enough, an assassination of a minor lord that was making noise about the competency of the Lightning Daimyo. It’s supposed a test of how well the village is doing after the invasion under Tsunade’s rule and Shizune is secretly proud of how easily she falls back into the old rhythm. All that needs to be healed are some minor scrapes and bruises and the poison cloud that wipes out the man’s guards is particularly potent.

In the end, it’s not even the mission that gives them trouble.

Shizune is elbow deep in Genma’s blood, pushing out as much chakra as she can to stabilize his heartbeat. Iwashi is busy wrapping Raidou up and force-feeding the man blood-pills but Shizune barely pays him any attention at all, focused on the faltering rhythm of Genma’s heart.

She floods him with her chakra, burning out infection with sheer power and cauterizes the gaping wound in his chest shut with a sharp flare of chakra. It’s good enough for now. It has to be. “Iwashi,” she barks out. “I want fifty ccs of morphine for both of them and a flare out since yesterday.”

The chuunin snaps to attention and Shizune forces herself to move away from Genma and towards Raidou, automatically cataloguing his injuries. Broken leg and what looked to be severe internal bleeding judging by the bruising on his chest and stomach. She presses a hand on his forehead, her chakra automatically molding to fit his, probing and searching. Concussion, possibly a subdural hematoma--

Shizune pours herself into him, pushing relentlessly with her chakra, and with every second she knows that she’s running out of time and energy. “Chakra pill,” she spits out and Iwashi fumbles at the kit in his hand, before handing her one and a canteen. Not enough. “More,” she says curtly, taking the pill with a bloody hand and popping it smoothly. The blood she tastes isn’t her own.

“But an overdose--”

Shizune snarls, irritated, and snatches the kit out of his hands, rifling through for the pills. She find two more safely hidden in a packet and pops them in her mouth.

The explosion of chakra inside of her is heady, like fire and smoke all coiled up together, a vaporous heat flooding her veins. It isn’t as substantial or powerful as _real_ chakra but it’s enough. It has to be. Shizune sets the kit down and runs her hands through a quick array of seals, chakra instinctively flowing to match Raidou’s chakra signature.

Her heart is a dull thrumming buzz in her head and her hands are shaking and Shizune can’t remember the last time she’s ever felt so afraid.

~~(Alive.)~~

* * *

 

“The seals force the conversion of chakra to match the signature of your patient’s-- you must do this instantly, the moment you come into contact with the patient’s skin.” Shizune forms the seals slow enough for the girl to copy, letting enough chakra through to cover her fingertips with a faint greenish tinge. “Get the conversion wrong and the patient’s body will reject your chakra, with the most severe cases leading to fatal seizures. That’s why control is so important.

Sakura sucks in a sharp breath. “Make one mistake and--”

Shizune smiles grimly. “Add in a combat situation. You must heal the patient while defending yourself from enemy attacks. You’re exhausted, you can’t focus because you took a kunai to the leg and you’re running low on chaka.” She shrugs. “Mistakes happen. And they’re usually fatal, on both ends. Why do you think there are so few combat medics in Konoha?”

Sakura furrows her brow and she chews on her bottom lip. “You-- you can’t scare me away,” she says, her voice defiant. “I’m going to be the best medic in the world and nothing’s going to stop me.”

Shizune considers the girl in front of her, so bright and fair and _young_ , who’d never been to war or killed or seen death. “You’ll hate it,” Shizune says, remembering the conversation she had with her master all those years ago. “And you’ll hate me for teaching you.” It’s an eerie feeling and Shizune wonders if this is what Tsunade felt, so old and weary and afraid of the innocence in front of her.

“I won’t,” Sakura says confidently, her eyes a little puzzled. “Why would I hate you? You’re teaching me how to be stronger so I can save my friends.”

Sakura has never had a teammate breathe their last in her hands or grown up praying in front of the Memorial, burning incense for a family she could barely even remember. Shizune is quietly grateful for that. It means that the war she fought meant something-- meant that she helped create a place where a girl like Sakura could grow up in peace. Teaching her how to heal-- Shizune selfishly, desperately wants to keep her away from it all and keep her safe, lock her up in a tower and let her be a little girl forever.

Shizune has always put the needs of the village in front of hers. “Okay,” she says, her voice cracking a little. “I’ll teach you.”

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I know I can do it,” Sakura says, her green eyes brightening. “I know I can.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m told I have you to credit for saving my life.”

Shizune bows once, twice and then looks up from the small stand of incense she has put up in front of the Memorial Stone. “I was just doing my job,” she says quietly, not quite making eye contact with the brown-haired man next to her.

He has a bouquet of flowers in his hand. Chrysanthemums.

“You did a good job,” Genma says and puts the flowers down, right next to her sticks of incense. “Shizune.”

“Genma,” she acknowledges, heart in her throat.

“I--”

“You--”

She looks away, cheeks flushing. “Go ahead,” she says, fingers gripping the folds of her kimono. He’s close enough that she can feel the heat of his body, his knuckles almost brushing her arm.

“It was a good service,” Genma says. “He made Special Jounin and of course all of his Corps teammates came.” _Everyone but you_ \-- Shizune can hear the unspoken accusation as clearly as if he had shouted at her.

“So I hear,” Shizune says, heart hammering away in her chest. She gives the incense one last look before turning away from the Stone, tucking her hair behind an ear. “It’s good to see you on your feet, Genma,” she mumbles. “I’ll see you around--”

She can feel the warmth of his hand even through the layers of her kimono, a hot brand on her skin. “Shizune,” he says again, his voice strained.

Shizune swallows and turns her head around slowly. “Yes?” she asks faintly.

“It’s-- it’s good to see you again,” Genma finally says after a long pause, his dark eyes boring into hers.

“It’s-- good to see you too,” she returns, breaking eye contact first. “It’s a bit late but congratulations on your promotion to Special Jounin.”

“Thanks.”

Shizune waits a beat but he doesn’t let go of her arm. It’s an easy hold, she doesn’t even need chakra to break it. But she just stands still, the heat from his hand soaking through her skin and radiating pleasantly throughout her.

“There’s-- a group of us. We get together and play cards, order takeout. The usual people. Me, Raidou, Kurenai, Gai, Anko, Asuma, maybe Kakashi if he feels like it. Saturday nights, mostly.” Genma clears his throat and his senbon bobs unsteadily with the movement.  

The names bring back hazy memories of teenagers playing jan-ken-pon for a seat at Ichiraku, dunking each other in the Haku River while practicing water-walking techniques. Shizune wonders what they’ll look like, twelve years older, finally the jounin that they had dreamed of being. She wonders if Kurenai had finally kissed the neighbor boy she had been sighing over right before she left or whether Asuma really did make good on his threat to run away from home. She wonders if Gai looks as dorky as he did years and years ago. She wonders what happened to Rin.

“I’d like to see everyone,” she says and smiles at him. “I’d really like that.” She’s grown up, lived her life—it’s time she let her friends do the same as well.

* * *

 

It’s little things at first. Shizune’s no longer supervised on her major surgeries; Tsunade stays in her office longer, later, and the rare times when Shizune does see her sensei, she can smell the stink of booze from Tsunade’s breath from down the hallway. She’s too distracted by her increasing responsibilities to pay it much attention-- Tsunade has always been fond of drinking. Later on, she wonders how much she had willfully ignored and how much she had actually missed.

Oshiro-sensei starts heading the rounds of the hospital; when asked about Tsunade’s disappearance, he shrugs and calls it orders from the top brass and continues the discussion about Maito Gai’s torn knee. Then Tsunade is removed from her position as Head Medic.

It’s a small notice on the bulletin board. SENJU TSUNADE HAS RESIGNED TO PURSUE HER PASSION IN RESEARCH AND WILL BE SUCCEEDED BY YAKUSHI NONO.....For something so small, it feels like a punch to the gut.

  
Shizune stumbles up the stairs, all the way to the top of the tower, fear clawing angrily in her throat. The door at the top of the stairs reads YAKUSHI NONO.

“They work fast, don’t they?” Tsunade-sama’s voice is harsh and bitter, all dried out with nothing left but a dry husk of its former self.

Shizune looks up at her sensei’s face and breathes in sharply. Her face is sallow, her eyes bruised, lips chapped and bloody. Her fingernails are bitten to the quick, her hair is shiny with grease and looks like it hasn’t been washed for weeks. Her clothes stink of booze. The only thing clean about her are her hands, which look like they’ve been scrubbed with sandpaper and boiled in water.

“Sensei!”

“I’ve been fired,” Tsunade says dully.

“I don’t understand, you’re _Tsunade,_ one of the Legendary Sannin--”

Tsunade laughs hoarsely, sounding more like a crow than a woman. “Sannin,” she spits. “ _Medic_.” It sounds like a curse on her lips. “I’m done, Shizune,” she says. “I’m done with this all, this fucking village, with everything. You know what this place’s done to me? Taken everything I’ve ever loved, taken everything I can give it and it still wants more.” Tsunade raises a shaking hand to the light. “Look at me. Look at what they’ve _done_ to me.” She breathes in, a sharp wheezing gasp. “I can’t stay any longer.”

“You can’t be serious,” Shizune half-whispers. She can’t stop looking at Tsunade’s hand-- it’s trembling like a leaf, Tsunade’s _hands_ , her sensei’s strong, beautiful, delicate hands, regarded as the steadiest in the country.

“I managed to pull one last favor from the old man.” Tsunade bares her yellow teeth. “Won’t be marked as a missing-nin so I won’t have to deal with some piss-poor bounty hunter looking for a reward.”

“You can’t just-- just leave. What about the hospital?”

“Doesn’t give two shits about me,” Tsunade says and her attempt at a smile is gruesome, all bloody skin and razor sharp edges. “Judging from the way they just kicked me out on the streets right now.”

“What about...” Shizune takes in a deep breath. “What about me?”

Tsunade’s eyes narrow. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re going to leave me here?” _Alone_. Shizune’s heart is thudding in her chest, right under the cool steel of Uncle Dan’s tags.

“You’ve got a life to live, kid.” Tsunade’s dark eyes soften a little. “I’m old, I’m too god damned old for this place.”

“Where’re you going to go?” Tsunade had been the one to pay for her Academy fees, had helped her find her first apartment, taught her how to give life and take it away. Not mother (dead), sister (dead) or friend (missing in action, presumed dead). She is the mountain whose shade Shizune quietly rests in.  She is the immutable, immoveable constant of her life. She tried to save Uncle Dan.

“Around. Anywhere but here.”

“Okay,” Shizune says and makes her choice. The terrifying thing is that it's not hard at all. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the gates.”

Tsunade’s mouth parts into a perfect little ‘o’. “Shizune, what are you...”

“I have a duty to the village,” she says, touching the tags at her neck. “But I swore myself first to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's messy and all over the place and probably not what you wanted, but I tried my best! I hope you like it, Crowind!


End file.
